


This Family Doesn't Talk

by beekeepercain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Coming Out, Gen, MTF Sam, Trans Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 08:24:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10510008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: Sam needs help, but she's not sure if John can accept her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've never been uploading this many prompts onto my AO3 and now my entire page is just full of short trans fics. Oh well. Trans Day of Visibility prompts again.

* * *

 

“Hey… Dad?”

They’re barely out of a fight, but Sam’s just feeling worse with every passing moment. John never holds a grudge, however; if he faced Sam with an expression anticipating to continue the argument from before, the tone of Sam’s voice now immediately changes his stance. He softens up and sighs.

“What is it?” he asks, leaning back in the couch and planting the gun he’s been cleaning back on the table.

Sam clears up her throat and moves onto the couch a safe distance away from her father.  
“I…”

Finding words is difficult.

“I need to talk.”

John’s brows lift in surprise, but he turns towards her and rests his hands on his crossed leg, looking like he’s really trying to be there for whatever it is that she’s got coming for him. Sam, on the other hand, feels sweaty and cold and her heart is hammering through her ribcage. They don’t do this - they don’t talk. They fight.

“I’m sorry I started the fight,” she says.  
It’s probably the first time she’s apologized since she was a kid. Now she’s not so anymore, and John doesn’t treat her like one, either. But there’s a lot that John doesn’t know - why it’s so hard on her to live the life that they’ve set up for her. And right now, it’s all boiling over.

John sighs.  
“It’s alright, Sam. I know I’m hard on you. Especially lately, you’ve been… more difficult than usual. I don’t mean to start another fight, but if you’re here to talk about that, I want to know the reason.”

Sam nods.  
“Yeah. It’s about that, actually.”

John nods, too. It takes a while for the rest of the words to come. Sam looks at the door - in a moment’s time, she could be out of it, walking to hitch a ride somewhere she’s never been before. In a moment’s time, this family might not be hers anymore. It’s a scary thought.

Tears burn at her eyes, but she refuses to show it. She drags in a breath making sure it doesn’t tremble, and then, well, what choice does she have?

“I just - I can’t do this anymore.”  
She swallows.  
“I’m not talking about the life. You know I hate the way we live, but it’s not about that. It’s… more about me. Dad, I feel - I really feel awful. I’ve been trying to push it back and I’ve been trying to ignore it and do what I have to do despite it, but it’s killing me, and I don’t - I can’t do it anymore.”

John frowns in a concerned manner. He leans forwards, as if wanting to reach out his hand and touch Sam, but they don’t do that in this family either, so the movement halts before it finishes.

“I need your help,” she pushes the words through, and now the goddamn tears are coming; they pool up in her eyes without falling off, but they’re clearly there and she knows that John can see them.  
“I really, really need help.”

“I’m right here, Sam.”

“I’m not sure if you… will be, once you know what I’m talking about.”

Saying it makes the cold inside Sam intensify. She’s said it, and for some reason, giving the fear a voice just made it worse.

“Of course I’ll be here. You’re my son. Nothing will change that.”

A pained laughter escapes Sam. It’s now or never.  
“But it’s just that - I’m not that. I’m not your _son_. I’m not a son. I’ve never been a son. I’m a girl, Dad, I - really, really want to be a girl, and it’s killing me, I can’t do anything about it, I’ve tried so hard to just forget about it and live as a boy because what else can I do? There’s nothing else - I can’t - I can’t get help, can I? We don’t have any money - we can’t - get to any resources. But I can’t do this, I can’t just keep on pretending everything’s alright when I just wish I’d never been born, every day, I just - I can’t - I can’t do this anymore.”

John straightens up again. His hands fist up and open again in a nervous manner, and Sam knows they’re now about as sweaty as her own hands are. She forces herself to keep looking at him just in case the next time he fists his hand it’ll stay that way and land over her face, but of course it doesn’t. Instead, John swallows hard and draws in a tense breath, letting it out quietly and slowly as Sam watches him.

“Slow down, kid. You’re not making any sense.”

“I’m a transgender girl. I know it’s what I am and I’ve tried everything I can to ignore it or make it go away but it just doesn’t, it _doesn’t_. It’s who I am. I’ll - I guess I’ll - I packed already, so if you want me to leave, I’ll do it. I just… I had to tell you. I had to tell someone.”

“I told you to slow down, Sam.”

Swallowing, Sam forces her body to relax back into the couch. She sits there, waiting, as John watches her with an unreadable expression tinted towards confusion and concern; he doesn’t look angry yet, however.

“You say you’re - a transgender girl?”

Sam nods. It’s the best she can offer.

“Now, what does that - exactly mean?”

“It’s - that I - I just - I feel like I’m a girl, and everything to the contrary, it just - it makes me feel awful, and I can’t, I - I don’t know how to describe it, I just, Dad, it’s… it’s like I just _know_  what I am and every time I’m reminded I’m _not_  that, it… kills me. I feel like I’m dying and I can’t just pretend that it isn’t happening anymore.”

There’s no reaction, so to patch up the silence, Sam continues; she’s not entirely sure why she’s doing it anymore, but sitting there in the quiet just waiting for something to happen is the worst option she can imagine.

“I’ve read up about it, I started when I found out what it was a couple years ago and I know what I want and what I need but I need your help to do it, because I can’t… get my hands on anything without your help.”

“You need my help to do what?”

“To transition. I need it - I can’t live like this anymore. I want to look like a girl and I want my body to look like a girl’s body, and I’m still young, so it’s - it’s not completely impossible for me to live a good life even like this, I still have a chance, and… I just… I need help.”

Now the long silence comes. Sam doesn’t have anything more to cover it up with, and John doesn’t seem to have anything to end it with either - he’s simply sitting there, looking away, looking at the dark window, with his fingertips rubbing his knee in a tense manner. He lets out a small sound, a thoughtful “hm”, but that sound is enough to cause Sam to jump; she buries her body deeper into the couch to prevent herself from getting up and just leaving before she’s been explicitly told to do so.

“Sam, I… I’m going to need some time with this,” John finally speaks.  
He turns back towards Sam and his expression is serious and somewhat sad, and he sounds weary and conflicted, but the outburst that Sam expected - or rather, feared - is nowhere to be found.  
“I don’t know anything about this. I see that you’re… well-read on the subject, which doesn’t surprise me at all, Sam, but… I know nothing about it. What you’re telling me, Sam, I can’t say that I understand. But if you give me time, I’ll do my best to learn so that we can have this conversation later. Can you do that?”

Sam’s breath catches somewhere in her throat and she shudders before nodding.  
“Ye-yeah, sure, I - yeah. It’s… I mean, I…”

A faint smile crosses John’s features, although he still just looks very tired for the main part.

“Sam, I’m sorry that you’re feeling bad. It’s the best consolation I can offer you right now and I know it’s not much, but I don’t want you to be unhappy. And I know that you are, of course; you’ve made it very clear. But you’re still my kid, and I want the best for you. You know that.”

Sam tries to nod, but the attempt is as feeble as her previous attempt to inhale.

“So… I don’t… have to leave?” she asks then, stupidly; somehow, she’s still got one foot out the door already.

“Of course not. Where would you go?”

Sam shrugs.

“Have you told Dean?”

She shakes her head next.  
“I… haven’t told anyone. Like I said, I tried - I just tried to ignore it. I don’t know what he’d say. I’m scared of it, really, I - thought you’d hate me and I thought I’d deal better with that and maybe he’d never need to know why I disappeared. I don’t know, my head’s been a mess the past couple days.”

“Why are you so certain you’d have to go, Sam?”

“I just - I didn’t… think you could accept me. Or that - anyone could, really. I don’t know if I’ve accepted it myself yet, so it’s… it just seemed ridiculous to think that anyone else would either.”

“There’s one thing I do know,” John huffs in a rather frustrated voice, “And it’s that the last thing I want is you on the streets like this. No, Sam, you’ll stay. The rest will have to wait.”

Sam nods.  
“Thank you,” she mutters although it’s hard to get any words out, “I - need some time alone, too, I guess, so I’ll go take a walk.”

“Be back before midnight, or if you want to stay out later, go to the diner and I’ll pick you up around two.”

Their eyes meet and Sam nods again. She manages a small smile before pulling on her jacket and leaving.


End file.
